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{published in print and online by the Iron Island Preservation Society of Lovejoy, Inc.}


In some past life, in 'twently-eight or 'twenty-nine,
She came to us, a Queen to the East Side

With Art-Deco arches and patterns and spirit,
The architects wrought her seemingly eternal frame,
The birds of heaven still loft there

Families gather to meet their distant branches,
Reunion through locomotion at seven crossroads,
The path to home now an open valley

The soldiers return, as husband, as son,
Many a father, including my own,
But that and so much else before my time

I met her the crone in swaddling facade
Empty halls full of silent testimony,
She was nothing to me but a Lady

Once faithfully cared for by many a gent,
In the company of drinkers drinking and joggers jogging,
Still the Lady

The enigmatic woman,
Children playing on her porch moments before
The sun takes everything at dusk but a black tower —
What do the children see through the window as they dream?

Busy-ness faded to an explorer or two like myself,
Ankle deep in lightless water below the streets of the past,
Too captivated to be afraid of this, my Lady.

Oh, how I wish I'd known her
When she was young

– Ken JP Stuczynski